by JA Huss
“His father was kinda infatuated with me. He tried to make our encounters more like… dates.” She stops again, probably remembering some specific time, probably wishing she could forget it. “We’d play cards. Poker, mostly. Which I sucked at. And he’d make the stakes sexual. You win this hand, I’ll do this to you. I win this hand, you do this to me. I always lost. I didn’t even know how to play and he never took the time to explain it after that first night. He would just laugh at me when I made a mistake. So of course I always did things to him.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” AJ says.
She shrugs. “Whatever. I did it for the same reasons you do it, Logan. To survive. You’re right, it’s easy to do what you’re told. To be reliable, as you put it. So I did everything he asked. And when I got pregnant I told Damon’s father first. I mean”—she laughs here—“no one knew whose baby it was. I was just a thing to them. And they were never careful.”
“Didn’t he have you on the pill?” I ask.
She nods. “He did. But I decided not to take it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because something had to change. You know?” She frowns and her face is suddenly very sad. “I get you, Logan. Because when I made the decision to change something—anything—I knew that the baby would be born into this terrible, evil family and I’d be responsible for it. But I could tell Damon’s father liked me. He’s evil, don’t get me wrong, but I think he made Damon marry me because he wanted me.”
She stops. For a long time there’s silence. No one is eating.
“Go on,” I say. “Because so far none of this is helpful.”
“I told Damon’s father first because I was hoping he’d… I don’t know. Be happy? Or at least feel… proud? Or maybe possessive? And he’d put a stop to the others coming into my room at night. Not Damon, but the others.”
“Did he?” AJ asks.
“Yeah,” she says. “He did. But he told Damon to leave me alone too.”
“How did that go over?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not well, as you can imagine. I tried to run away a bunch of times but they always caught me. And after each time Damon’s father would come to me and say things like, ‘Why do you do that? Why do you run?’ Like… he’s such an idiot. Ya know?”
AJ and I both nod our heads.
“So after I tell him I’m pregnant I say… I say… ‘Damon wants to kill you and take over.’ I tell him the things I’ve heard the others say.”
“So it was true?” I ask.
“It was true. They really did want to kill him. I wasn’t going to leave or get away, but I was hoping he’d kill Damon first and at least, if I had to be stuck in this awful nightmare of a life, at least Damon wouldn’t be there anymore.”
“Good plan,” AJ says.
“Yeah,” I have to agree. “But you do know that Damon actually did kill his father a few years ago, right?”
She nods her head. “I know. He came up here to tell me in person.”
“Damon did?” I ask.
“Yup. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me finish.”
AJ encourages her to keep going with a roll of his hand.
“So Damon’s father says, ‘I can get you out of here. Put you and the baby somewhere safe. I have friends out west who will take care of you. I can get you a new identity. You can start over.’ Of course, he would be coming to visit me and the baby regularly. But I said yes and less than twenty-four hours later I was on an Indian reservation in New Mexico. That’s how I met Daniel Nightingale. I was staying with his aunt. And Chris used to come over every now and then. We were close in age, and we became friends. So after the baby was born we got common-law married and I got pregnant again and… well, you know the rest.”
“Hold up,” I say. “What happened to the first baby?”
“He’s safe somewhere. He was adopted through an agency.”
“How did you get that past Damon’s old man?” AJ asks.
“I didn’t tell him until after it was done. I had the medical center on the reservation induce my labor five days early, had the baby, signed him over to a private adoption agency, and that was that.”
“Holy shit,” AJ says. “What did you say to the old man?”
“I told him the truth. That they were all a bunch of evil motherfuckers and I was done. The tribe took care of me. And when Damon’s father came to visit on the day he thought the baby was due, they met him at the entrance to the reservation with lots and lots of guns. Whatever happened after that, I don’t know. I didn’t actually see it. I never talked to him again, in fact. I stayed there for a couple months and then I moved up here on the mountain with Chris and Daniel.”
“So when did Damon find you?”
“About…” She thinks for a moment. “Eighteen months ago, I guess?”
“Right about the time the old man died,” I say.
She nods. “His father told him, I guess. I’ve imagined that conversation a million times in my head. But however it happened, Damon came up here one day, walked through the door, took a seat at the bar, and ordered a drink from Chris. I was standing there, holding our baby, watching the whole thing happen like it was a bad dream.”
“What did he do?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Not one goddamned thing. Just drank his drink, waited for Chris to go in the back to get something and then slid a piece of paper over to me.”
“What’d it say?” AJ asks.
“It said, I’ll be back when you least expect it. And I will rip your world apart the way you did mine. And then he left. Daniel was already dead from cancer by that time. But six months later Chris and Bonnie were dead. Slipped off the side of the road and hit a tree, they said. But it’s not true. It was no accident. Damon killed them and left me up here to rot alone.”
“He didn’t ask you about the baby?”
“Not that time. But he sent a huge flower arrangement to the funeral with a note to call him. Which I did. And he said if I gave the baby back to him, he’d leave me alone.”
“You didn’t, of course,” AJ says.
“I don’t even know where he is. I told the adoption agency to hide him. To never let anyone find out his real name. And they can’t find him because there’s no record of me giving birth. The tribal medical center faked everything the day my son was born. Some young teenager’s name is on his original birth certificate. No one can find him now, not even me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two - AJ
The three of us sit in silence for a long time. Just eating our food. More out of habit and necessity than hunger or appetite. Because that was some fucking story.
When we’re done Yvette gets up and says, “I’m going to take a shower and put on something pretty. Just leave the dishes here and I’ll take care of them later.”
And then she disappears through the swinging kitchen door.
Logan and I just stare at each other. Finally, he says, “She’s lying.”
And I nod my head. Reluctantly. Because I don’t want it to be a lie, but it is. I’ve dealt with all kinds of desperate people. I mean, dudes will say anything when they think you’re about to bash their head in with a bat. Anything. I’ve learned to spot the desperation. Learned to filter the truth from the fantasy.
And this story Yvette Nightingale just told reeks of desperation. It’s overflowing with fantasy. The only difference is she’s not desperate to save her own life. She gives no fucks at all about her own life.
“She doesn’t want us to know where the kid is,” Logan says.
I nod my head again. Because he’s right. “Which part do you think is true?” I ask.
“You tell me,” Logan says. “I feel very… cynical right now.”
“Damon’s father. I think that’s true. There’s really no other explanation for how she got away.” Logan nods his head. “And the tribe stuff. This bar, those people. Her second baby. All that stuff is true. But the adoption?”
Logan is shaki
ng his head nope.
“Why lie about that?” I ask. “Why just that part?”
“Because she doesn’t trust me,” Logan says. “She thinks even if she takes those pills or we kill her, I’ll go back to Damon and tell him where the kid is.”
I just… glare at him. “And you’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d tell him.”
Logan shrugs. “What’s the point, AJ? I mean, we’re so fucking stuck here. I’ve been trying my hardest to find a solution, I swear to God, I have. But I can’t see any other way.”
“We could run,” I say. “Just get in the truck, take her with us, and go to your stupid island. I’ve got money stashed away. I’ve got a lot of it, actually.”
“It’s not about money. I’ve got way more money than I need too. He’d find us, AJ. I already told you that.”
“So we’ll go somewhere else. There’s a million places to hide on this earth. Millions of places to get lost. We can’t kill her, Logan. I won’t kill her so you’ll have to kill me too. And I know you won’t do that so yeah, you’re stuck.” Then I force a smile and waggle my eyebrows at him. “You’re stuck with us.”
He doesn’t smile. Not even a hint of a smile. Just says, “We need to convince her to trust us. Come up with a reasonable plan.”
“Like… run,” I say. “The only other way is to kill Damon and that just brings a whole bunch of headaches along with it.”
“No,” Logan agrees. “We can’t kill Damon. He’s got too many cousins and his stupid little brother watching his back. And even though they all want him dead, no one’s got the balls to actually do it because none of them could take over the business the way he did. None of them are strong enough to hold shit together afterward, so what’s the point? They won’t do it just to get Yvette and her baby out of danger, that’s for damn sure.”
“Look,” I say, pushing my stool back from the table. It makes a sickening scraping sound on the tiled floor. I put both hands on the table and lean over, staring into Logan’s eyes. “Running is the only plausible option. It’s either complete the job or don’t complete the job. And I’ve already decided we’re not completing the job. So you’ve got two options here, OK? Kill her and me, and go back to Damon. Or leave with us. Which is it?”
He looks at me and he looks tired. He looks like he needs a nice, long island vacation. One that lasts a lifetime.
“Are you gonna kill me?” I ask.
He hesitates. And I swear to God, I get a vision of Logan pointing a gun to my head and pulling the trigger. Because that’s what Logan does. He follows orders. That’s who Logan is. No loyalty to anyone but himself.
But finally, he says, “No, AJ. I’m not gonna kill you.”
“Then it’s settled. We run.”
I turn away and walk towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To check on the fucking weather and see if the highway’s open yet.”
I go upstairs to get dressed. Yvette is in the shower, so I don’t bother her, just get what I need and go downstairs to find my coat.
The highway is not open. It’s still fucking snowing.
Like… I’ve grown up in the snow. I know what a blizzard is. I’ve lived through many of them. But this is fucking ridiculous. And it’s way too fucking cold. I’m not sure we could even get the damn truck started, even if the parking lot was plowed and the highway cleared. It’s that cold.
There’s at least three feet of snow in every direction. I trudge through it—and believe me, I’m a tall man. Three feet is less than half my height, but it’s hard as fuck to make my way out to the road and stand there, desperate to see if anything is happening. If anyone is coming.
But we’re literally on the top of the mountain in the middle of a long switchback. So my line of sight is only about fifty yards in each direction. And even if it wasn’t still snowing and I could see past the wall of falling flakes, I still wouldn’t be able to see any farther than a hundred yards.
If the trucks are out plowing they’re starting from the bottom on each side and going up until they meet in the middle. Which is pretty damn close to where we are. So that means we’ll be the very last part of road to be cleared.
But that doesn’t mean we can’t be ready for that.
I have a sick feeling that Damon is starting to get very nervous about this job. A sick, sick feeling that he’s on his way here right now to check up on us. Which means the second they clear this highway, we need to go.
So I trudge back to the bar, make my way around the side of the building and head into the shop to get that tractor started.
Because I’m gonna plow the fuck out of this parking lot.
Chapter Twenty-Three - YVETTE
The shower feels good. Even though I’ve taken three showers in the past twenty-four hours, this one feels better because I linger. I enjoy it more. Yesterday I was preparing for death and today… well, I still don’t much care about that. But I have a new mission now.
Keep these men from learning my secrets.
I feel confident too. Even though Logan is still the wild card. AJ is on board. Whether he believed the lies I told downstairs or not, I get the feeling he’s done with Damon. Whatever it is he did for the organization, that part of his life is over.
It’s Logan who still needs convincing.
And the thing about him is… he’s all about self-preservation. If he can find a way to save his own ass, he will do it.
That’s the hard part here.
Damon sent them, which means Damon was expecting a progress report yesterday. We are on borrowed time right now. The blizzard was a stroke of luck or maybe a twist of fate, but it’ll be over soon. That’s all people were talking about yesterday on the news. Snow through Monday afternoon.
And it’s almost lunchtime now.
I get a sick feeling in my stomach at the thought of Damon walking through the door of my bar. I have a sudden urge to go lock it. Get one of the shotguns, load it up, and sit at a table in front of the door with a box of shells next to me.
Shoot that asshole the second he walks through.
Because he’s coming. One way or another, he’s coming for me. I can feel it in my soul.
“Hey,” Logan says.
I spin around, still jumpy from my thoughts of Damon, and see Logan poking his head through the doorway to the bathroom.
“Hey,” I say. “You coming in for a shower?” I ask. Even though I want to be alone. I don’t want to make him any more suspicious of me than he already is.
“No, I’m good. Just… checking to make sure you are.”
“I am,” I say. Smiling. “I’m fine.”
He stares at me for a second, then nods. “OK.” And disappears.
Yeah. He knows. He’s probably got some fancy bullshit detector up in that head of his by now. Dealing with all those shady people in Damon’s organization.
“OK, get your shit together,” I mumble. “Time to put on your game face.”
I rinse off the rest of the soap on my body, turn the water off, and wrap myself up in a towel.
When I walk into the bedroom Logan is sitting on a chair in the corner, looking pretty casual. One ankle propped up on one knee. He’s wearing the t-shirt I gave him yesterday. Black. Says ‘Metallica’ in faded letters across the chest. Bare feet. Bare arms peeking through the too-tight sleeves of the shirt. He’s more muscular than he looks standing next to AJ, who is definitely a gym rat and it shows. So when you compare the two of them side by side Logan comes off as lean.
But he’s not. Not really. He’s muscular too, he just carries it different.
This is a good look for him, I decide.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Waiting for you,” he says.
“Do you need something?” I ask, walking over to my closet and going inside.
What to wear? I thought my last outfit was pretty good. But turns out, wasn’t my last outfit. So now I need to come up with something equally pretty
.
“Yeah,” Logan says. “The truth.”
I look over my shoulder. I can see him from here. Or, rather, he can see me. Actually has a straight-on view.
So I drop my towel and step away from it.
“Well,” I say, trying to be casual as I turn back to browse my rack of clothes. “Which part do you think I’m lying about? How about we start there?”
I have a few cool dresses I could wear but it’s cold and I don’t feel like wearing tights. So I choose my second favorite pair of jeans. This time a light wash instead of the dark ones I wore yesterday. Which implies a more casual day ahead.
That remains to be seen.
I also choose a camo-print ribbed top with a lace-up front that shows some cleavage and has sleeves that end in a bell of black lace.
Tough girl with a side of sweet.
That’s me all right.
I take both those things out of the closet and drop them on the bed, then pick out a matching black bra and panty set from my dresser drawer.
Logan tracks my naked body with his eyes the entire time.
“Yvette,” he says.
“Logan?” I say back.
“I can’t help us if I don’t know the truth.”
“Us?” I ask him.
He closes his eyes. Slowly. Lazily. Like he’s trying to muster up some patience with me, but having a hard time.
“If we could all get out of this—” He stops in the middle of his sentence. “I would like for all of us to get out of this alive,” he says, switching tactics.
“Me too,” I say, slipping on the panties.
Again, he tracks every movement with his eyes.
I reach for the bra, slip my arms into it, then reach behind my back to fasten it. Then I lean over and adjust my breasts so when I stand up again, they are spilling out over the cups just enough to be sexy.
He sighs and I almost laugh.
“Well, we can’t do that if you’re not honest. We know you’re protecting the kid.”
I shrug and start pulling on my jeans. Then slip the top over my head and adjust the laces so my bra is showing through them.